Melt My Heart to Stone
by Vixi89
Summary: <html><head></head>"The emotional impact of everything in Hungary had left scars on the pair of you that would once again thwart your attempts to explore the deeper, and no doubt darker, crevices of your relationship" A H/N One-shot.</html>


_**I hear your words that I made up,  
>you say my name like there could be an us...<br>I best tidy up my head,**_

_**I'm the only one in love...**_

_(Melt My Heart to Stone, Adele)_

You've known it for a while. You've not been yourself. And you sense that Harry and Leo are beginning to realise it too.

It's been a month. Over a month. And 'post-Hungary', a term that seems to be thrown around a lot these days, you feel almost as though _you_ are now the one bearing the emotional burden, although you're struggling to define what the burden itself actually is.

Harry's wounds, both physical and emotional, seem to have healed well with time, all thanks to your weekly takeaway, wine and special dose of friendship therapy. But it seems to you that with every step Harry takes towards strength, happiness and freedom from the ghosts of his past, the deeper you fall into a deep pit, filled with the ghosts of yours. Only, these ghosts look, feel, and act every bit as your best friend would, and they come in the form of his daily presence by your side.

For the thing that burdens you most right now, are the ghosts that haunt you when you're with him. The ghosts of fear, anguish and regret.

The fine line separating the necessary from the unnecessary, the acceptable from the unacceptable, and the wanting from the needing, has become increasingly hard to distinguish over the past seven years. Occasionally one of you sees the chance to cross the line, and yet more often than not, some indescribable force prevents you from doing so.

You had dared to dream, after the realisation of what Harry's death could do to you, that the two of you would somehow miraculously meet halfway at the metaphorical line which so often tears you both apart. But, as you had always feared, it had not been the case.

For the emotional impact of everything in Hungary had left scars on the pair of you that would once again thwart your attempts to explore the deeper, and no doubt darker, crevices of your relationship.

There have been good, bad, great, and terrible times. There have been times of heartbreak and suffering, times of joy and relief, and you know, deep down, that each of these times, you have grown closer to the one person you never thought it was possible to be closer to.

You share everything. Your work, your homes, your friends. You share a life together. You share a certain regard for each other that can only be found in the closest of friendships. You share personal space as if you were but one person, your bodies moving comfortably around one another as if performing a dance. An endless dance of trust, and of longing, but with each partner apprehensive to choreograph the next steps.

As you return your test samples to the refrigerator and glance at the clock, it's quarter to eleven, you realise that your burden will soon be somewhat eased for the day. Because when you leave the Lyell Centre, and leave Harry along with it, the weight upon your shoulders shifts ever so slightly, as if mere distance from the very thing causing your heartache could solve all your problems.

Of course, you know that this is not the case. Whilst you may feel slightly relieved, after a long day, to be apart from Harry and the emotional turmoil his presence brings, you know in your heart that living without his very presence would rip your heart in two. So you have come to the conclusion that an aching heart is better than a broken one.

You find yourself perched on the edge of the very same slab in the cutting room that always manages to entice you in times like these. Times of such distressing, painful thought, that you feel the need to physically prop yourself up, or occasionally lie down, in order to process your next moves.

On this occasion, you know your next move will be to make your way home to bed, only to resume the painful dance with your best friend tomorrow. However, your psychological thought processes refuse to connect with your physical ability to stand up and leave. For when you leave, you miss him.

You haven't seen or heard from him in the last 3 and a half hours, locked away down here in the cutting room, alone with your thoughts. But you know that when you leave, you will miss him. The fear and panic of never seeing him again will return, and he will consume your every thought, awake and asleep, until you are reunited the next day.

So you stay. And sit. Just for a while.

And then you hear your name.

It's him. It's Harry. Him and all the ghosts he brings with him.

At first you don't notice the ghosts, your heart skips a beat whenever he says your name, your eyes light up and, just for a moment, everything seems perfect.

For in the seconds that follow him saying your name each time, you truly believe that there could be a chance for the two of you. A chance to break free of the ghosts, the demons, the metaphorical lines currently destroying what you know would be the best thing to ever happen to either of you. You truly believe that you and Harry could be as one.

But as is now, he destroys all hope by continuing on with what you deem to be a lie. He might not see it that way, and you suspect he doesn't. He is merely living out his life as he always has, trying to move on from his ghosts, he just doesn't realise that by doing so, he's pushing you further towards yours.

He walks over to you and takes your hands, and it occurs to you that this gesture represents the essence of your entire relationship. Whenever you try your best to stand your own ground, to be independent and free of your harrowing thoughts, he has the power to steal your hand and make you weak once more. You can feel yourself withering in his presence, and it saddens you to remember a time when he was in fact your strength, your reason to get up in the morning.

"Nikki, I really am worried about you. I feel as though everyone's been too focused on _my_ recovery, and all the while, you've been suffering on your own. Please talk to me."

It never ceases to amaze you how he can read almost your every thought. Almost. When it comes to the thoughts that trouble your brain day and night, thoughts of him, he seems unable to penetrate the psychic barrier that protects them.

"Harry, don't worry, I'm just tired. Honestly. I'll be fine after a good sleep."

"It hurts me that you'd say 'honestly' to me, when you're clearly not telling me the truth. I'm your best friend am I not Nikki?"

"You are. Always will be."

"So then don't I deserve to know what's going on? What's making you so upset and withdrawn. Why don't you tell me?"

You consider the possibility of telling him. Of accepting the challenge he has just laid out in front of you, but before you can stop it, your mind conjures up a series of consequences, and in each one, you lose the best friend you've ever had. For whilst your heart is consumed with adoration for the man who is your everything, you know, deep down, that in your friendship, you are the only one in love.

"Why don't I tell you? You're the _one_ person I can't tell, Harry."

"But why not? You should be able to tell me anything. I'm your friend."

"My _friend_. That's exactly the reason I can't tell you."

"I don't understand."

"You are the one person in my life I can rely on Harry. The one person I can run to when something's wrong. It kills me that I can't talk to you about this, but I know that telling you would mean the end of our friendship. And truth be told, I don't think I could live without you in my life."

He doesn't respond. Your hands are still in his and his head is bowed.

You bow your head too, allowing the tears to fall freely from your eyes.

Then you feel his grip on your hands tighten and you lift your head to look at him. For a second you think you see a glimpse of something other than friendship in his eyes. You believe once more in the possibility of something _more_. One of his hands reaches up to gentle wipe a tear from your cheek, and you dare to indulge in your belief a while longer.

And then he kisses you. An explosion through your entire body prevents you from thinking straight, but you are vaguely aware of his hands running through your hair, his lips on yours, his body against you.

Your belief has turned into reality and you can't quite believe it now it has. After seven long years together, you've finally been able to cross the line. Although you're unsure who crossed it first, or even if there ever really was a line there to cross. You consider that the long wait may just be a result of your combined stubbornness. Either way, you don't care. You're in love. In love with your best friend.

"So, can you tell me what's bothering you now?"

"I think you already know. And I think you've already solved the problem."

"Is the problem _completely_ solved, or might we have to engage in some further exercise to really stamp the problem out?"

"Well they say exercise is good for the heart, and they couldn't be more right. Let's go home Harry."

And as he scoops you up into his strong arms, you kiss him again, and out of the corner of your eye, you watch all your ghosts and demons evaporate. You are _you_ once again.

* * *

><p><strong>LOVE this song by Adele, and just had to base a fic on it. No idea if it works though and not completely happy with it, so feedback would be great! :) x<strong>


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